“How is it getting on?” whispered Mrs. Deering.
“Oh, steady,” he replied with his hands in his pockets.
“Lucky man!”
Morland King shrugged his shoulders. “The only thing against it is papa and mamma—chiefly mamma. A Gorgon of a woman!”
“You'll never get a wife to do you more credit than Norma. With that face I wonder she is n't a duchess by now. There was a duke once, but a fair American eagle came and swooped him off under Norma's nose. You see, she's not the sort of girl to give a man much encouragement.”
“Oh, I can't stand a woman who throws herself at your head,” said King, emphatically.
“What a funny way men have nowadays of confessing to the tender passion!” said Mrs. Deering, laughing.
“What would you have a fellow do?” he asked. “Spout blank verse about the stars and things, like a Shakespearean hero?”
“It would be prettier, anyhow.”
“Well, if you will have it, I'm about as hard hit as a man ever was—there!”